Medieval France: Ste. Chapelle

Ste. Chapelle's tall windows.

Though Ste. Chapelle isn’t from the period of history I’m studying, it’s possible, perhaps even likely, that Christine worshipped here at some time or was at least aware of it.  The chapel took Henri III’s breath away.  Others must have understood that it was a gem.  Besides which, the reliquaries that were housed here would have made it interesting to any religious person in the middle ages.

I’m glad I made the trip.  You enter on the ground floor.  Even at that level, the beauty is overwhelming.  I almost missed the staircase to the top floors.  It wasn’t obvious, and I hadn’t read anything about St. Chapelle before I went.  But I saw people walking up the stairs, so up I went.  Breathtaking is probably too mild a word to describe St. Chapelle.  From the beautiful tiled floors, the windows rise up 139 feet into a vaulted ceiling painted with stars.

If you have a chance to see a concert in Ste. Chapelle, go.  

This performance was Bach's Cello Suites, some of my 

favorite music.

If you’ve visited old churches in France, you may be used to the uniform grey of the stone and the niches.  In reality, the medieval church was brightly painted, outside and in, St. Chapelle’s colors have been restored, and they add to its magnificence. 

I returned to St. Chapelle a second time to hear three of Bach’s Cello Suites.  It’s common in Paris through June and July to host musical events in the famous churches.  And why not, the acoustics are wonderful.  Plus it’s a wonderful excuse for tourists to spend time in a church without having to practice a religion.

Sitting in St. Chapelle, I had time to appreciate things other than the windows.  There are five angels carved over the chancel, and I spent much of my time staring at them.  Also as I sat wondering where the reliquaries the Chapelle had been built for were kept, I discovered wells and niches in the walls that I hadn’t noticed when my neck was craned and my eyes were gazing upwards. 

Resource Sharing: My Write Club

Screen shot from My Write Club.  I'm gravllo. Add me as a friend. 

One of my very favorite things about NaNoWriMo is the little bar graph that tracks my daily words.  At the end of NaNo last year, I looked around for a similar way to track my work and found and interesting website, My Write Club.

The interface is simple.  Sign up, set up projects, then start sharing your progress on what seems to be an unlimited number of projects. 

You can link your account to friends and keep track of their progress, too.  Seeing the line creep upwards on the graph gives me a thrill.  I’m tracking seven different goals this year on My Write Club. And I can see my friends’ goals and their progress.

 We can also write each other notes.  My friend says she appreciates being able to see that I’m on track even when we aren’t writing together. 

Me, I just like the graphs. 

If you, too, miss the lovely graph from NaNo, take a look.   If it seems useful, sign up and start tracking.  Feel free to add me as a friend.  I’m gravllo. 

Unexpected Gifts

Gathering in requires just the right baskets, an attentive
mind and an open heart. 

We writers know that reading feeds writing.  It’s one of the reasons we read.  (Did I mention I’ve read over 400 picture books this year.  And at least ten verse novels. And over twenty mysteries [This number would not be so high had I not discovered Inspector Gamache. Thanks, Jude.])

You get the picture.  Every book I read reminds me of  experiences I’ve forgotten, thoughts I’ve kept shuttered.  Books remind me of sights, of smells, of the way things feel when I hold them in my hands or against my cheek. Writers read, and reading is the food of writing.

So I shouldn’t be surprised that yesterday as I read through the pile of picture books my husband had collected for me from the library while I was in Thailand, a memory came floating back, like a little boat on a small lagoon. 

Inspiration.  But, oh, I thought to myself.  Surely someone has already written that story.  A quick search of the internet, the library catalog and Amazon told me that no one had.  Incroyable! (Pardon my French ;-).

So, I sat down to write it.  Really, I think the story had been hiding there in my mind, writing itself for the past eight years.  It had been waiting for me to see its potential (I can relate).  And then, when I finally opened my eyes, it was there, nearly fully formed.   Well, okay, it needs a lot of revision, but it’s a start. 

A start I wouldn’t have had if I didn’t live broadly in the world, gathering in its sights and sounds.  Noticing the daily miracles. 

And it’s a start I wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t sat down to read just the right books at just the right time.  A gift. 

Thank you, world.  Thank you, books.  Thank you.

Impossible Things

Photo Credit: Amanda Patterson http://amandaonwriting.tumblr.co

Last year, at the end of every month, whether they wanted it or not, I sent a list of my accomplishments for the month to my tribe.  This practice wasn’t for them. They usually read the emails, but that wasn’t the point.  The point was to take note of the things I was doing to forward my work as a writer.  To treat myself with the same seriousness in the career I chose as I did in my other work where I regularly had to write weekly or monthly status reports or training reports. 

It’s always nice to have an audience, so I think I might have worked a little harder some months knowing that my friends would be reading the work I’d done for the month.  I called these my “Six Impossible Things.”  And six things was what I was aiming for though I frequently produced more. 

Halfway through the year, I realized that the list of things was much more important to me than it was to my friends.  Go figure.  There was power in keeping track.  There was power in noticing the ways that I had turned this self chosen career that I hadn’t been paid much for (I made $100 on my writing last year) was something worth being attentive to, was something worth noticing.

So I paid attention.  I noticed the work.  Something amazing happened.

I began to think of the work I do as work not just a hobby.  I began to defend it and the time I spent doing it.  I began to take myself seriously as a writer. 

So, how can you take note of the work you do for you--whether you’re a fiber artist, a writer, a poet, or a dancer?  How can you keep track of your work in ways that show that the work holds meaning for you?  How can you do the work so that it’s easy to show its meaning to others? It’s only April.  Most of the year is before you.  How can you honor your passion?  Do it.